[She careens out of the memory like she's dropped out of a moving train. Camille's knees hit the ground like his had hit the stone. She's on all fours, gasping, feeling the slick of blood and the blister where the knife handle rubbed against her palm. Gone now, of course. Yet the effort and the pain of killing stings her nerves in the long minute after she's fallen out of the vision.
How about that? She's got her confirmation. Fire off the confetti cannons.
Camille's gut lurches. She dry heaves. Sits back on her heels, sweating, looking to the sky.
8( 8( 8( sonion...
How about that? She's got her confirmation. Fire off the confetti cannons.
Camille's gut lurches. She dry heaves. Sits back on her heels, sweating, looking to the sky.
Killer. It's in her blood. In his.]